


Venom

by AsgardianAngels



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 2nd Age of Middle-Earth, During Mairon's sabbatical to the East, Easterlings, Gen, M/M, he's just such a charmer, one of his rousing speeches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsgardianAngels/pseuds/AsgardianAngels
Summary: "A serpent may roll over and show its belly in your bedchambers, but it is no less a serpent, merely a tamed one. It will know how to strike when the need arises."For hundreds of years after the War, Mairon wandered the East seducing kings to his side. In this brave new world, he did what he had to. He was a survivor. This is just one page in that book.





	Venom

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is just a drabble, one of many that I think of daily but for once made it to paper. It's part of the GSS, aka the Giant Slutty Shitshow™ known as the Second Age. In my little interpretation of the Tolkien universe, Mairon had nothing after the War of Wrath, and needed allies desperately, to start rebuilding and gathering strength. He saw what Men desired - power, wealth, and to his controlled horror, _him_ \- and repulsed as he was, he knew he must use these weaknesses to his advantage. No Man could resist him, and so one by one they fell under his dominion. He loathed every second he spent with them, silently begging Melkor for forgiveness, but it worked like a charm. To me, much of Mairon's shame and guilt arises from these deeds. But hey, the ends justify the means, right?  
>  I could write a thousand stories of this time in his life, most of them sad; but I hope you enjoy this as just a snippet in space and time, merely one (more upbeat) example of how yet another kingdom of the East fell under his sway.
> 
> A lengthy fic is in the works, one that I've had rattling around in my head for nearly two years. But in the meantime, my personal goal for myself is 'write down more things when you think of them.' So, here's a rousing Mairon monologue!

“That was…exquisite,” the king breathed, sculptured chest rising and falling, glinting with sweat as he lay back against his satin sheets. Mairon turned his head, hair falling around him like pools of molten ore. He said nothing, running his tongue along the inside of his lower lip in the absence of thought. The glow of his amber eyes spilled onto the pillow and the glistening skin of his lover, where it seemed to splinter into a thousand beads of fire. “Truly, you are a jewel without compare,” he continued. “As water in the parched desert, and men would walk for miles amidst mirage uncounted to have but a taste.”

“You flatter me,” Mairon teased, averting his gaze with a satisfied grin. He made a move to stand but was reeled back in by a set of hands on his hips and firm kisses to the back of his neck. On the second attempt he broke free, and sauntered over to his discarded garments, shrugging them on. From the nightstand he poured himself a glass of wine.

“And you are worthy of it,” the man countered. “Though, while your tenderness in the act of love is a pleasant surprise, I hope you are less courteous when it comes to the act of war, as the tales tell.”

Mairon raised his brows incredulously. "A serpent may roll over and show its belly in your bedchambers, but it is no less a serpent, merely a tamed one. It will know how to strike when the need arises." He shot a cold glance at the man while he stood turned, buttoning his robes.

"That is a comfort, for then I know I have nothing to fear by your side."

Mairon chuckled, low like a purr, and took a long sip of his wine. "I wouldn't say that." 

But it was lost on the king as he peeked his head through the curtains, surveying the throngs of people that had gathered in anticipation of the news rumored to be given, here, in but a few moments. Under the blinding sun all he could make out were waves of civilians undulating in their fervor like the impatience of a choppy sea.

He returned to Mairon, who was running an ivory comb through his golden tresses, humming a tune. The maia had aided in calming his nerves, for the memory of those silken lips upon him lingered still. Yet his hands trembled, and so he took Mairon’s in his own.

“Are you certain about this?” he asked. “Perhaps we should wait, until further preparations have been set in place…”

“It is time,” Mairon reassured. He had a soothing quality to his voice, and already the man felt his conviction restored. “I must speak to your people. If I am to work with you openly, I must be welcomed.”

The king nodded. “You are right.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Mairon’s hand. “Since you arrived here you have not led me astray.”

Mairon smiled. “I wish only to see our causes united, for the benefit of both.” He eyed him from under heavily shadowed lids.

“You have united more than that already,” the king insinuated, raising an arm to tug at the maia’s waist and bring him closer. He leaned in to steal a kiss but before he could there erupted a din of trumpets sounding to announce his royal appearance. He sighed and dropped down from his toes.

“I hope you are prepared to speak to a crowd,” he said, fixing his sash and smoothing the creases from his robe. “It looked as if they have flocked from cities nearby as well. My empire is large but I did not expect the peasants to take such an interest.”

Mairon simply maintained his smile, and it was enough to convince him. 

The king parted the curtains with a flourish and stepped out onto the terrace, greeted immediately by thunderous applause from his subjects. It was not so much that he was well-liked, for poverty had stricken much of his kingdom as of late and despite his good intentions he had lost much favor in their eyes, but rather that an occasion of some importance had finally come about and many were willing to take part simply to break the monotony. He began addressing them, and as he did so Mairon in his crimson robes, trailing across the dusty tiled floor, slipped out to stand in the shadows behind the king. He assessed his audience silently, gauging their reactions, and waited patiently for his introduction. The man turned to glance at him, and saw that the maia’s eyes were no longer that of one of the feral felines that skulked the city streets in search of its next prey, but white as his own, with irises of shimmering gold, bright and fair. He quickly faced the crowd again, his next words in a stammer.

“A-as a leader I have faith in the resiliency of our people, the strength and pride in our hearts and the labors of our farmers, our artisans, our mothers, and our brave soldiers. But I must not turn a blind eye to our plights, for such would be folly. So I acknowledge our need for help.”

Some of the civilians nodded, most remaining still and quiet. The king took a few steps back and gently ushered Mairon forward into the light.

“And help has come.”

Gasps were heard as men gazed upon the maia, never before having seen one so radiant and lordly, not even their own ruler. A vision of indulgence was he in his gold and rich silks, tempting them with what could be theirs, and they drank him in with their eyes, unable to look away. It was a wonder anyone had managed to overlook his presence before that moment. Mairon possessed the rare gift of being noticed exactly when and how he wished. Whispers flittered through the crowd – was he of elf-kind? Nay, even nobler is he than the first folk. Do you smell that, in the breeze, just now? Aye, _magic_ , that’s what it be. Some were amazed and bewildered, others kept an air of cold skepticism. What would an outsider, especially one of this stock, offer them without debts to be paid?

The king came up beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“This great lord of old has come to us, extending a hand in friendship. He has treated with me, and these past weeks we engaged in discussion of many topics of import. Wise has he proven in the ways of the world, and it is my decision that we would be allies in all things. I would now that he come before you and speak, to earn your respect, as is my hope.” He nodded at Mairon and stepped aside.

Whatever doubts there were to be had were utterly forgotten at the first sound of Mairon’s voice, cool and clear like a spring welling up from the deep.

“Good people of the East,” he began, “I come before you humbled. For even as I had tread the cracked earth, wandering alone in search of purpose, I underestimated the valor, the resilience, the sanctity of mind and soul, to be found within these city walls. I bowed to your king as one who has seen the light of the dawn after the long perilous night. And lo, I saw also that you are grieved. Yet I know what has befallen you, and what cure there is to be found.”

Captivated by his high speech, it was as if all leaned in to hear his answer.

“Independence.”

“Too long have you relied on the charity of others, only to find yourselves cheated time and time again. And by whom?”

He looked around, tempting them to respond, though none would.

“Everyone. Too few show the great kingdoms of the East the respect they deserve, robbing you of dignity and of many innocent lives. And none more than the Edain, those they name Elf-friends, but more rightly so Enemies of Rhûn. By their hand did the hammer stroke fall that clove the flesh and bone of your own.”

 He paused as many bitter looks were exchanged, rousing the enmity buried deep in their hearts.

“And yet even they are subject to a greater force, one which has guided them to rain wrath and ruin down upon all those in their wake. These men serve their masters. I speak of the capricious Lords of the West.”

Mairon scanned the crowd for recognition – surely they remembered the old tales? Some were perplexed, but intrigue flashed across their faces. 

 “They sit upon their high thrones far removed from your struggles, from the cries of your newborns and the dying pleas of the famished and forgotten. And yet they claim divine right over all your race, and over all races, as rulers and protectors of this world. Tell me, what have they done for you lately?”

None called out, for such was the answer.

 “How can they call themselves shepherds of the Earth when they are nowhere to be found?” he continued. “These are your lands. This is your birthplace, where you first awoke and looked upon the world with innocence and hope. And they abandoned it, abandoned you, to utter ruin. Nay, I say if they are shepherds, then they only seek to line you up for the slaughter.”

As the words left his lips he heard the stifled gasps of mothers, thinking of their children who sat in the crook of their arms in the sweltering heat swatting flies.

“And so they have done already. Forget not the wars of old and how you suffered at their hands. It will happen again,” he warned. “From over the ocean they came for you and all who dared stand with you. In their haste and contempt all beautiful things that grew there were trampled underfoot, the ground was flattened and sundered and so the sea came in and stole those vast lands into its depths. And now where does it lie? Under the waves until the end of days. That is how much they care for the lives of mortal men,” he sneered. “And after their labors, for cleansing the world of such filth is tiresome work, they retreated to their palaces and feast halls while we all rose on bloodied palms out of the dirt to pick up the pieces of our broken lives. And for their troubles they gave those Men of the West new lands, all for their own consumption, to be spoiled by their greed as it surely will. Mark my words – they will come, seeking all that you have under guise of friendship, or even in open war. But you must not fall prey to their lies, for they will slaughter your women and children while your backs are turned, captivated by the kingly gifts they claim to offer freely.”

They nodded decisively, agitation growing.

“It is time to reclaim what is yours. Your pride, your freedom. While those savage warlords, those deceivers, still wandered in the dark you were here, Men of the East! Your halls and homes will glitter with gold as you deserve. Let ye not be tempted by false promises by those who come by the banner of the white tree, descendants of those who wronged you lifetimes ago, for they will leave you to starve when they have bled you dry of your hospitality!”

He breathed heavily, letting his words settle. Yet, out of the tense silence came a lone voice from the back of the crowd, wavering and uncertain.

 “But are you not one of them, those fell spirits from the distant lands, come before us as one of our own?”

Many heads turned, some seeking the source and others to Mairon, whose gaze fell as if in shame.

“I was, once. And in nature I still am – that I cannot change. But in my heart no longer. I was witness to their injustice, their cruelty, and I revolted, many ages ago before the dawning of Man. They have shunned me as they have shunned you, and in you I see a kindred spirit – one who has been wronged by these false gods. From me they have taken everything, and yet that is not enough, for above all they desire obedience, and that we must never give them, lest we become our enemies.”

“What would you see done then?” said one, several others echoing his sentiment.

Standing tall and fair, the maia’s radiance dimmed even the sun above, and it seemed he grew while they shrank.

 “I would see their thrones toppled, I would see them on their knees humbled and I would show them the mercy they have shown me - an utter lack thereof,” Mairon spat. “And then I would take back what they stole.”

He regained his composure, and smiled. “But in your lifetime, I would see this place prosper as it never has before, so your children, and your children’s children, will know the unsurpassed power and glory of the East, and they would never go hungry again. You shall be the center through which all trade flows; through me, the land, sea, and sky shall be yours, and you will know wealth unimaginable. You, my friends, will help build the new age of this world.” He took a step forward, raising his voice. “And all, even those sniveling self-entitled Men of the West, will see beyond their hubris and bow to you in fear and revelry! If the Powers wish to abandon their charge to destitution, thinking it may relieve them of some burden and clear their conscience so they may make merry without thought to those they left behind, let us give them a message. We do not need them. Paradise on earth shall be found right here, if we work as one.”

He needed say no more, for cheer and applause erupted around him. Many men let loose shouts of anger, battle cries of those wronged, or so they believed. If the Númenóreans were at their doorstep they would have been ready to march out and meet them, such was their passion. He had all rallied to the cause, with just a few well-placed words of encouragement.

Mairon bowed, and the king returned to his side to try and quiet the crowd. An old woman in the front waved and got the maia’s attention. He leaned down a bit as she spoke up.

“Bless you, bless you,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, our savior, what can we call you?”

He quirked an eyebrow, and looked out at the masses. They wished to worship him.

“I like that,” he said to her, tasting the name in his mouth. “Lord Mairon, Savior of the East.”

She smiled, tears of rapture falling down her cheeks.

When the king had pulled him back into his chambers, and was kissing his neck hungrily, unable to resist the desire to ravish him beyond measure of love or riches, Mairon could still hear his name being chanted outside in the plaza below. Let this failure of a leader enjoy his control while it lasted, he smirked, as the king shamelessly dropped his robes before the maia.

This serpent still knew how to strike.

**Author's Note:**

> Isn't he an excellent actor? Don't worry, Mairon cried himself to sleep at night every time he betrayed the only one he ever loved, wishing Eönwë had just put him out of his misery after the War :)
> 
> ...Did I mention I think Mairon and Khamûl were involved... there's definitely a story there to be told.
> 
> I'm trying my best not to make everything I write sad, ok? It's difficult with this piece of trash smh


End file.
